


Cosmic Variations of Slapstick

by farad



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: For the Fic Promptly broad post, “Soul Mates”, for the specific prompt “Avengers, Clint/Steve, there was no way his soul-mate could possibly want him.”Thanks to Kayim, the Soul-Bond prompter, for her idea of the name written on the wrist.All mistakes my very very own.





	Cosmic Variations of Slapstick

 

He watched the interplay between them, Steve and Tony. It was so obvious, even to him, that there was something there. They fought a little too much, a little too hard, yet they also agreed on all the basic points.   
  
And they liked each other. That was clear also.   
  
"You asleep in there?"   
  
He glanced up as Natasha slipped into the chair beside him, holding a steaming mug of tea. He still found it funny that that was her 'go to' in the morning. "Ready to get this over with," he said, "get back to the kids." He said it quietly, so that only she could hear it. Because only she knew.   
  
"And Laura?"   
  
"Of course Laura," he said quickly, picking up his own cup of coffee and trying to ignore the sound of Steve's laughter on the other side of the room.  
  
She was quiet for a time, long enough for Bruce to amble into the room, mussed and grumpy and adding his two cents to whatever it was Tony and Steve were arguing about. Clint knew Tasha was watching Bruce and he relaxed, finding his own gaze traveling back to Steve.   
  
He couldn't stop himself. Nor could he stop the overwhelming want of the man, the yearning that kept him coming back to this team, these people, despite his common sense.   
  
When he'd reached puberty and found the name 'Steve Rogers' scrawled on his wrist, he'd thought it a bright star for his future - something to look forward to one day, when his life was his.  
  
Then he'd found himself in S.H.I.E.L.D., where there was only one 'Steve Rogers', and he was buried at the bottom of the sea. Clint had seen that signature enough, on the secret file he'd managed to ferret out of Coulson's desk one night. Another of the cosmic jokes the universe played on Clint Barton. His soulmate was a dead man. He'd soldiered on, ignoring the signature he woke to in the mornings. He'd already discovered sex, already teamed with Tasha, and then he fell in love with a 'simple country girl', as Laura called herself, who offered him the dream of a life and family he'd never had.   
  
And Steve Rogers had resurrected from the dead.   
  
"They suck, don't they," Tasha murmured, barely a whisper.   
  
He flinched then turned, hoping to pass off his surprise. But she was staring at him with a sad smile on her face. Before he could speak, she went on, "Those damned words in the skin."  
  
He held her gaze, thinking it through. "You, too? I never noticed."   
  
She shrugged. "All of us, I think. And we all spend too much time trying to cover them up." She held out her hand, and he noticed that like himself, she wore a wide watch band on her wrist. Glancing around, he noticed that almost all of them did.   
  
Even Tony.   
  
"You knew it was . . ." He didn't finish the statement, just in case there were listeners here, but he knew she would know what he meant.   
  
"Narrowed it down to those two," she said. "You could say 'no' to Thor and Bruce."  
  
He nodded, looking into his cup. "Didn't ever expect to meet him," he said. "Certainly never expected this."   
  
She sipped on her tea as the sounds of from the other side of the room turned into a discussion, with only periodic hints of amusement and irritation. If he closed his eyes, it would remind him of home, of him and Laura in the morning, discussing the day, the plans for the kids, the delegation of chores.   
  
Him and Laura. Tony and Steve.   
  
He wondered how Tony dealt with Pepper. At least Clint didn't have to worry on that. He'd never have to worry about that guilt, about the possibility of hurting the woman he loved - even if it wasn't the perfect love he felt for Steve.   
  
Then another thought struck him and he opened his eyes and looked to Tasha. "Shouldn't have been Bruce," he said. "He's on your wrist, isn't he?"  
  
She smiled sadly and shook her head. "No."   
  
He frowned. "Then - who?"  
  
She shook her head and put down her mug. "Another time, Barton," she said, putting her hands on the table as she started to get up.   
  
He reached out with the speed of long training and caught her wrist, pulling it off the table. It caught her unprepared and she fell back into the chair, trying to pull away.  
  
But it was done already, his fingers easing up the watch band for the split second it took to read the words on her skin.   
  
The signature so familiar in its illegibility, its immaturity.  
  
The one on his own first contract with S.H.I.E.L.D.

 


End file.
